


Every Move You Make

by rivlee



Series: Capua Inc. [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professional behavior left Agron about a month ago. Part of a Modern!AU where the characters are involved in a fictional government agency.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Move You Make

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaMonica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMonica/gifts).



> For remnantsofnonsense’s tumblr prompt: _I have always wanted a NAGRON fic, where Nasir is dealing with a stalker of some sort.. Ohh I don’t know..ex- boyfriend..he’s a celebrity with a crazed fan..whatever..and Agron is a op on his case… And of course ..the sparks fly…. I love the whole “Protective/ Jealous Agron thing. It’s hot._. I’m so sorry that it’s not AT ALL what you requested, bb. Inspiration just took me in a completely different direction.
> 
> Also, this is one part of a much bigger verse. The preview is [here](http://antiquecompass.tumblr.com/post/34932468751/kay-this-is-that-fic).

Agron Bauer had a slight problem. A small issue, really. No great concern. It was just, the mark they had him following, he was concerned for the man’s safety. 

“I really do think he’s being stalked,” he told Duro, his work-partner and brother.

“Agron, the only stalker in that hacker’s life, is you. And me. And the federal government,” Duro said. He opened the file containing Agron’s photos. “Seriously, you’re like, five seconds away from boiling a bunny. We need evidence of him meeting with possible marks, not a photo essay on the wind blowing through his hair.”

“It’s pretty hair,” Agron said. He stared at the picture of Nasir al-Jamil on the monitor and tried not to grin. He really was a gorgeous man. Extremely intelligent too. He already had two degrees from MIT and he was only twenty-three. Oenomaus wanted the kid desperately for their logistics team. He was resorting to blackmail to get Nasir onboard. Agron just wanted him badly for his own life. 

Duro dropped his head into his hands. “I can see the meeting with Oenomaus now. _Sorry we didn’t find proof to blackmail him into a job but at least we know he has a future as a Pantene spokesperson_.”

“He’s a good guy, Duro,” he argued.

“Agron, you’ve never even _spoken_ to him.”

Agron kept his mouth shut. Technically speaking there was no rule against engaging the mark if it furthered the mission’s success. 

“Tell me you didn’t,” Duro said.

Agron shrugged. “Look, he recognized me as one of the guys who fucked up the computer lab last week. What was I supposed to do? Dive under a bench?”

“Or just be all, _Sorry, bro_ , and walk off,” Duro said.

“Worst covert agents ever,” Mira agreed. She pointed to the screen. “Mr. al-Jamil has already contacted us and requested a meeting at a place of his choosing. He’s tired of being followed around. He told us it was amusing at first but now it’s impeding his work on his dissertation.”

“It’s quite a challenging one according to his advisor,” Agron said. 

Mira shook her head. “And that right there is why Duro is going to the meeting. You’re too close to this one, Agron.”

Agron shook his head in disbelief. “Duro doesn’t even know him.”

“Technically speaking, _you_ don’t know him.” Mira said.

Agron did not pout. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “Are we done here?”

“You are. Go get some rest. I still have some goals for the mission I need to review with Duro,” Mira said. 

Duro winked at his brother. Mira had to know he would pass the intel on. At least this why she could assure Oenomaus she didn’t directly tell Agron. 

As he ducked out onto the brick sidewalks of Cambridge, Agron almost missed the complicated simplicity that was their old life. You had rules when running in a thieves' guild but it wasn’t all this government protocol bullshit. He was tired of being around bureaucrats more concerned with saving their paychecks than saving their assets. Oenomaus and Spartacus were trying to change things but they were two men against the whole upper-echelons of shit in the Capua building. 

He was just about to duck into the nearest Dunkin Donuts for a coffee when he spotted Nasir and the big guy that so-totally-was-a-stalker behind him. The guy was two or three people behind Nasir, never taking his eyes off Nasir’s bag. Agron reacted by pure instinct. He was across the street and trailing them both before he realized it. When the man went to reach for the strap of Nasir’s bag, Agron grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him into the nearest wall. 

“Fuck,” the guy yelled as he tried to fight Agron’s hold.

Nasir whirled around. “Dagan?” His eyes shifted to Agron. “What the fuck are you doing to my brother?”

Fucking Fuckity Fuck. Dagan Smith. Nasir’s stepbrother. Agron expected someone smaller.

Agron backed off of Dagan. “Sorry, man, mistaken identity.”

Dagan cursed. “If that’s what you do to strangers, I can’t imagine what you do to friends. Get the fuck away before I violate my probation by shoving my foot up your ass.”

Agron didn’t need to be told twice. He did, however, need brownie points for calling in his fuck-up.

“Varro,” he said into his phone, “I owe you $50. I fucked up again. Better tell Spartacus.”

***********************

Agron had better weeks on record. Some much worse, but getting reamed out by three levels of bosses for assaulting a civilian and almost blowing his cover, finding out his mark had him pegged all along as an asset, and then finding out said mark thought his hair was an abomination and he was a jackass, which just not the best week ever. 

So Agron was here, on a bench, watching the sailboats on the Charles and thinking of simpler times. When he first started this job Mira had brought him here and pointed Nasir out. His hair was down that day, loose and carried by the strong breeze coming over the river. He was busy laughing with friends, acting like a normal kid his age rather than the tech genius courted by all branches and agencies of the government. 

Agron found him attractive from the start. It was an uncommon thing. He did normally try to respect professional boundaries. The falling in love with his mark though, that was so Hollywood cliché that he could punch himself. Nasir just reminded him of a life before; the possible future husband of a different Agron. The Agron he was supposed to be from birth before life fucked him over. 

His phone buzzed with yet another message form Duro. They were due to leave that night. Agron knew he had to get back to the safe-house. He just needed one more second of the stupid dream life. 

He jumped when someone plopped a chai tea down next to him. He looked up to find an annoyed Nasir.

“At least I can hope you’re good enough at your job not to slam _me_ into a brick building.”

“Not without your permission,” Agron said. 

“Dagan, my stepbrother, the one you slammed into the brick wall. Why did you do that?”

“I thought he was about to steal your bag. Dude’s huge.”

“He’s a 6’5” construction worker who went to school on a football scholarship. Of course he’s huge.”

“You can understand why I viewed him as a threat, then.”

Nasir didn’t look amused. He sat down beside Agron and stared.

“What?” Agron asked.

“How are you still employed?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve slammed someone into a wall for no good reason. I usually do much worse.” Agron wasn’t proud of it but he wasn’t going to lie to Nasir. 

“Well, since you seem to know all about me except for what my brother looks like, let me try the same for you. We can see how it feels.” Nasir pulled out his phone and tapped open a file. “Agron Bauer, born Jakob Agron Hoffmann outside Munich on April 3rd, 1985. Son of a German father and Luxembourgish mother. Do you speak it?”

“What?” Agron asked. 

“Luxembourgish?”

He shook his head. “Only a few phrases. Want a lesson?”

Nasir rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass. Anyway, what else? Ah, yes. Eldest of four children. Your parents were academics killed in a car accident with your younger sisters. The accident is still under investigation a decade later. You were at home with your brother. Following your parents and sisters’ deaths you inherited legal guardianship of your brother and disappeared off the grid for three years. You popped up again with a different name and sudden American citizenship.”

“You’ve made your point,” Agron said. His didn’t realize how tight his jaw was clenched until he spoke.

“I’m not finished,” Nasir said. “Your mother was an economist. That explains how you’re so good with money despite your appearance. Your father was the one who taught you about ancient history. Is that why you spend so much time at the Museum of Fine Arts?”

“It’s the best I can do here without trespassing onto Harvard grounds.”

“Ah, yes,” Nasir said. “The anger management issues which have led you to being banned form more than a few worldwide institutions. Tell me, did you get that scar above your heart from a bar fight? You seem the type.”

“I got it saving my brother’s life,” Agron said. He forced his hands to unclench. He knew Nasir was purposefully baiting him and he would not give him the satisfaction of winning. This shit was personal in a way it wasn’t before.

“Why me?” Nasir asked.

“What?”

Nasir tilted his head and Agron got distracted by the sunlight glinting through it. 

“You’ve been pretty professional about not crossing personal lines when it comes to your marks. At least that’s what your work file claims. So, why me? Why do I get to be the special one you decide to stalk above and beyond reason? What, do I seem easy to you? Is it because I’ve made the mistake of falling for one too many assholes who think they can control me? Is that what you want, Agron? A person you can fix-up and mold?”

“No,” Agron said. “I’ve seen you at your kickboxing classes and at your job. You’re not a person I’d strive to piss off.”

“Then answer the question.”

Agron felt stupid even thinking the answer. It didn’t matter anyway at this point. Nasir, even if he did take the job offer, clearly wasn’t interested in Agron. No one just casually brought up your dead parents and siblings to prove a point. He took a sip of his tea and just went with it.

“Because you still care.”

“What?” Nasir asked. 

“You still care. You spend most of your free time volunteering at youth shelters. You know you were damn lucky in life and you like to help others.” He pointed to Nasir’s jacket. “You keep your front pocket full of loose change. It’s mostly dollar coins that you know the T-machines use. You have enough to purchase a single ticket for at least three people or, failing that, a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Every street performer you pass, no matter how shitty, you always drop a tip. You appreciate their bravery for doing that in a crowd. You always stop to listen to the violinists though. You linger and watch them even if it means missing your train. You know you get paid too much money for your semi-illegal side jobs so you created an anonymous scholarship foundation with MIT to assuage the guilt. 

It’s you because you blare the best of 90s Top 40 through your apartment when it’s time to clean. Because you dance around in your boxers and sing into your hairbrush and don’t care if the neighbors can see you through the blinds. Because you still wake-up early enough to watch Saturday morning cartoons. Because you think cereal is its own legitimate food group. 

You’re not afraid to stand up for what you believe in. You’re smart enough to know that messing with me, Duro, or our boss could get you killed and yet you refuse to back down. And yeah, you’re gorgeous. You know you’re attractive but you like people to prove themselves to you before you take the next step. I don’t know what to tell you; I just admire that. You don’t have to worry though. Come tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“What do you mean?” Nasir asked. He almost sounded surprised.

Agron shrugged. “The offer was extended. We saw it done. It’s time for me and Duro to go for our next job.”

“Then why are you here now?”

Agron lifted his head to meet Nasir’s eyes. “I guess you could say I like the view.” He stood up and grabbed his drink. “Thanks for the tea.”

Agron didn’t know why he expected Nasir to call after him or follow him. He knew better than to believe in that Hollywood-ending bullshit. It still hurt though, to not even get a goodbye or at the very least, a _you’re welcome_.

“What the hell are you doing back?” Duro asked when he returned to their safe-house.

“I had my coffee with Nasir, as you intended.”

“I know, I sent him there,” Duro said. “I mean what are you doing back _now_?”

Agron rolled the empty cup between his hands. “We talked. I let him know we’ll leave him alone from now on.”

Duro pinched his brow. “You are so fucking stupid.”

“I am not,” Agron yelled.

“Agron, he’s really fucking into you, okay? You know what you do when you find out a government asset is stalking your every move? You call the cops or your congressperson, or I suppose in Nasir’s case, you hack their bank account. What you don’t do is go around purposefully baiting the asset because you like what you see.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You two are made for each other, I swear to god. I’m never going to get laid again because I’ll be too busy sorting your shit out.”

Duro marched over to the bed and grabbed his coat.

“Where are you going?”

“To find Nasir and bring him back here so you two can stop this pigtail-pulling bullshit and just fucking kiss already.”

Agron blocked the path to the door. “Duro, no. Look, we’ve done enough. Let’s just leave him alone. He was only having some fun at my expense; well-deserved fun thanks to my fuck-ups. Just leave it. I’ll get over it.” Agron forced a smile he didn’t feel. “It’s me, Duro.”

“Yeah, it’s you,” Duro agreed. “And I know you, probably better than you know yourself at this point. This isn’t some infatuation you’re just going to forget, Agron. You fell in love with this guy. Far from the most healthy way, sure. Lots of issue between him, you, and a couple’s therapist coming up, I can guarantee, but it still doesn’t change facts. You’re in love with him and that’s not going to change just because we leave the city limits.”

“It’ll have to,” Agron said.

***********************

Three weeks of a stake-out in Greensboro later, Agron was finally back in his apartment. It smelled fresh for once instead of that dry, stale smell of unopened windows and no life. Mira must’ve been by to air it out. He hated coming back to this, the silence and the emptiness. It might be time to consider that roommate offer from Lydon. 

At least his fern was still alive. Donar wasn’t completely hopeless at plant care.

Fuck, he should’ve picked up groceries on the way home. He’d have to make do with water and popcorn tonight. He didn’t even have enough cash on hand for delivery. First thing was a shower though. He smelled like airport and train stations. He was just under the blessed hot spray of decent water pressure when someone decided to break his door down with their fist.

Agron was pissed. He’d just suffered three weeks of trying to bathe out of a gas station sink. Only an idiot would interrupt a desperate man’s shower. 

He ripped the door open. “What the fuck is your—Nasir!” He winced at how excited he sounded. 

Nasir looked at him with one raised eyebrow and gave him an once-over.

Agron was suddenly very aware that he was naked and half-covered in bodywash.

“Uh, hi,” Agron said. He stepped aside and gestured for Nasir to come in. He pointed to the couch. “Just, uh, make yourself at home. I’ll take care of this.”

Nasir shook his head. “I brought dinner. Go finish your shower.”

“You brought what?”

“You’ve been out of town for three weeks and I know you’re not the type to stock up on staples. Mira and I restocked you fridge for you. I wanted to tell you so you didn’t die of shock.” He smirked at Agron. “Or think you were in someone else’s apartment.”

Agron growled. “That was one time and I honestly thought I had the wrong set of keys.” He was dumbstruck as Nasir walked around his kitchen like he knew it by heart. He went to the right cabinets for cups, plates, and silverware.

“Agron,” Nasir said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Shit, fuck.” Agron dashed back into the bathroom. He took the quickest fucking shower of his life before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find.

Nasir was still there, in his kitchen, walking around as if he owned the place. 

“How are you here?” Agron asked as he casually propped himself up on the countertop.

Nasir laughed. “For a government agent you are really unobservant.” He pointed down the hallway where the door to the guest bedroom was open. 

Agron almost slipped off the counter when he saw the new comforter, a pile of computer parts, and shoes. It looked lived-in.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the day you left for Greensboro. Oenomaus didn’t have a place for me to stay yet. Duro said you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Agron admitted. 

“Good,” Nasir said. He pointed to the table. “We’re eating like people with actual manners tonight. None of this standing over the sink shit.”

“Don’t fuck with my ramen tradition,” Agron said.

Nasir rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand how you can eat that crap and yet have that body.”

“It’s all about moderation,” Agron tried. 

Nasir seemed unconvinced. He handed Agron a plate with a roast beef sandwich that was at least a pound of meat. Agron was more than a little in love.

“What are you even doing here?” Agron asked as he took his place at the table.

Nasir looked up from his much more sensible-sized turkey club. “I took the job. I was going to tell you but you ran off before I could.” He softly smiled. “I didn’t get the chance to compliment you on the haircut either.”

Agron ducked his head, still adjusting to the lack of weight from his braids. “Yeah, someone said the braids just weren’t my style.”

Nasir shrugged. “Duro wears them better. You’re two grown brothers. The time for matching haircuts is over.”

“Unless we really want it.”

“No,” Nasir said. “Consider it a follicle intervention. It had to happen.”

Agron couldn’t stop smiling. He had yet to take more than two bites out of his meal because he just couldn’t take his eyes off Nasir, in his apartment, at his kitchen table. 

“You should eat,” Nasir said as he washed his plate off in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. 

“Why?” Agron asked. 

Nasir walked over to him and palmed the back of Agron’s neck. Agron automatically leaned into the touch, head falling back into the hold.

“You’ll need your strength,” Nasir murmured. “We have so much to talk about.” 

Agron turned back to his sandwich and took three more huge bites of it. “Done,” he said. He stood up, put his plate away, and downed a glass of water all under the watchful and amused gaze of Nasir. 

Nasir held his hand out to Agron and he eagerly complied. 

“I would say I don’t know what to do with you, but I have a few ideas,” Nasir said.

He titled his chin-up and Agron took that as a signal. He hesitated for a moment, needed to be absolutely certain. Nasir’s nod was small but it was there. 

He kissed Nasir softly, slow, taking his time to savor what might not happen again. Mutual hacking of each other’s personal files didn’t make for a good start. This wasn’t typical though, nothing about either of them was standard.

Nasir pulled back and Agron’s stomach dropped at the dark look on his face. He just couldn’t do anything right with Nasir.

Nasir’s hand tugged at the back of his hair. “I am not fucking made of glass, Agron. Kiss me like you mean it. Like I know you want to, like _I_ want you too.”

Agron groaned and pulled Nasir closer to him. Nasir pushed into him and his back hit something hard. Door, wall, he didn’t care. All that mattered was this sudden burst of heat, the taste of Nasir on his tongue, the feel of Nasir’s fingers digging into his back. He left Nasir’s mouth and moved to the tempting skin of his neck, smiling wide when Nasir gasped at the sudden blow of air on flushed skin. Nasir’s fingers were skimming lower and lower with each pass, starting to tease along the waistband of his sweats. Agron had to pull back a moment to breathe when those hands palmed the skin of his hips.

“Yo, Agron,” Duro said as he slammed the apartment door open, “I brought—perfect timing.”

Agron knew his chest was heaving. He could see the red patches from his beard burn already blossoming across Nasir’s neck. Nasir was glaring at Duro in a way that could only be described as murderous and Agron honestly should not have found that as hot as he did.

Nasir legit hissed at Duro. “Get. Out.”

Duro held his hands up. “Last time I try to help you two out.”

“Now,” Nasir growled. 

Duro slowly backed out and closed the door. 

“We’re getting new locks,” Nasir declared before tugging Agron down again.

Agron didn’t even think to argue.


End file.
